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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26570368">The Thing About Trust</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSnow/pseuds/LittleSnow'>LittleSnow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reckless [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, The Dark Knight (2008)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Crimes &amp; Criminals, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt, Obsessive Behavior, Pain, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:49:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26570368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSnow/pseuds/LittleSnow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending a month in jail, Nora starts to see things more clearly. As it turns out, she'll get one last card to play... but it won't end well for everybody.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reckless [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1132172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Thing About Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey! </p><p>I hope you are all doing great and staying safe. I'm pleased to be back with the third (and last!) part of the series. Before you start, a little heads-up, the updates will be random, at least at first. So if you dislike waiting too long between chapters, maybe give the fic some time and come back to it later ;)<br/>Also, just a reminder that English is not my native language, but I always try to do my best!</p><p>As usual, I appreciate all comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. (or feel free to throw tomatoes, that works too.)</p><p>Enjoy! ♡</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>48 hours before trial</b>
</p><p>“<b>T</b>respassing, robbery, shoplifting, um…” the voice trails off. “Where's the—? Wait a second.”</p><p>The man rustles through some papers before continuing.</p><p>“<b>O</b>bstruction of justice, possession of a weapon of mass destruction. And, of course, complicity to murder.”</p><p>There's a short pause.</p><p>“<b>N</b>ow, they don't care if you've stolen from a store, or stepped on someone else's property. They're gonna focus on what they found in your house and the murder. But do you wanna know what else I found?”</p><p>He pulls out a page from the pile of papers without waiting for an answer.</p><p>“<b>T</b>he Joker Toxin that they supposedly found in your kitchen, guess who brought it back? Officer Derren Miles. Any piece of evidence he's touched won't be admissible in court. Fortunately for us.”</p><p>The silence settles and a fly starts circling around the room, the buzzing sound becoming a distraction before it finally lands on the table.</p><p>“<b>H</b>ello?”</p><p>My eyes follow the small insect, almost forgetting to blink. <em>Being a fly would be kind of convenient right now…</em></p><p>“<b>C</b>ome on, Nora!” The man slams his hand on the table and swipes the dead fly off. “Focus.”</p><p>I finally sigh and look up at him. “<b>W</b>hat do you want me to say?”</p><p>The man finishes his bottle of water in two chugs and sits on the table, looking at me sideways.</p><p>“<b>H</b>ow about ‘<em>good job, Ron</em>’? Did you hear what I just said? Most of the evidence they found can't be used against you. We've already pleaded not guilty, now we have to bury everything. You were blackmailed, threatened, tortured—that's physical <em>and</em> emotional abuse right there. And you've got childhood trauma already,” he adds before putting the empty bottle down, eyebrows raised. “That's <em>good</em>. Without even mentioning the recent loss of your aunt, a parental figure. You <em>are</em> the victim here.”</p><p>He chuckles and drops into the chair before grunting as if he just remembered something. “<b>A</b>nd you're an orphan! I mean, come on.”</p><p>“<b>I</b>t's not your life on the line,” I retort, “You'll still get paid whatever happens.”</p><p>“<b>H</b>ey.” He clasps his hands as he leans forward, elbows on the table. “When I represent someone, I do it right.”</p><p>I merely nod, looking away.</p><p>“<b>S</b>o stop giving me the silent treatment,” Ronald continues with a sigh, “I know it's tough in here but the trial starts in two days and you're not giving me much to work with. Let's talk about the accident.”</p><p>I feel a muscle twitch in my jaw as I frown.</p><p>“<b>W</b>hat accident?”</p><p>“<b>T</b>he crash that killed your family. Was it ruled accidental?”</p><p>“<b>Y</b>es.”</p><p>“<b>D</b>UI?”</p><p>“<b>N</b>o. What does it have to do with this?” I ask coldly.</p><p>“<b>T</b>hey will dig up your past. If there's anything you think I should know, now is the time, so I can put something together if needed. Does that make sense?”</p><p>“<b>S</b>ure.”</p><p>“<b>O</b>K!” He gathers up a few papers and opens his briefcase. “Another thing—”</p><p>He stops abruptly as the door opens and I glance up to see James Gordon standing in the doorway.</p><p>“<b>I</b> need a minute with her.”</p><p>The attorney snorts and sighs, sitting back.</p><p>“<b>C</b>ommissioner, as much as I like you, you know I can't leave my client alone with you.”</p><p>“<b>I</b>t's fine,” I retort, “You can leave us.”</p><p>The man sighs again and looks at me with a nod.</p><p>“<b>D</b>on't answer any questions, you know how it goes.” He closes his briefcase and heads for the door. “And you can tell him to fuck off whenever you want, too!” He chuckles and shuts the door behind him. </p><p>James presses his lips together and gives me a tight smile as he sits down.</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou got yourself quite a lawyer,” he comments, trying to lighten up the mood.</p><p>I nod without a smile and glance down at my hands resting on the table. Shifting in his seat, he leans slightly forward to make eye contact with me.</p><p>“<b>H</b>ow are you holding up?”</p><p>I shake my head without replying and he nods, clearing his throat uncomfortably.</p><p>“<b>L</b>isten, I'm sorry it had to come to that—”</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou know I'm not a criminal,” I interrupt him. “I never wanted this.”</p><p>“<b>I</b> know, Nora, but you broke the law many times, I couldn't just—” He shakes his head slowly. “I couldn't make that disappear. You have to understand, I have people breathing down my neck, my hands were tied.”</p><p>“<b>O</b>ut of all the criminals running free in this city, the GCPD still had time to come after me? My hands weren't <em> tied </em> when I risked my life to save your children,” I remind him coldly.</p><p>Behind his glasses, his gaze flickers to me and he frowns at the memory. </p><p>“<b>A</b>nd I'll be eternally grateful. Don't think for one second that I've forgotten what you did for us.”</p><p>“<b>I</b> was willing to take a bullet for them,” I continue, voice trembling. “Now, I'm the one who needs <em> help</em>. I can't stay here. I <em> can't</em>.” I clasp my hands together hard to keep them from shaking. “This place will kill me. <em> Please</em>.”</p><p>I shake my head in despair. <em> I don't usually ask for help, let alone begging, but I don't know what to do anymore. </em></p><p>“<b>T</b>he only reason I stayed around was to help… I thought, maybe, if I saw what was happening I could help, somehow. That's why I was talking to Batman, that's how I was able to save your children. Things could have been worse, you know, I just wanted to help.”</p><p>As I talk, I can't even remember if what I'm saying is true. <em> Is that the reason why I stayed in Gotham? To help? </em> I know what to say and what not to say, but I'm not sure what's real anymore.</p><p>“<b>A</b>ll the help you've given the police will be mentioned during the trial," he adds reassuringly. "I'll be testifying.”</p><p>“<b>I</b>t's still a <em> trial</em>,” I retort, “I could be sent to prison.”</p><p>His only answer is a long silence and I feel so powerless, the tears start welling up in my eyes. </p><p>“<b>W</b>hat about Bruce Wayne?” I straighten up, blinking a few times. “Where is he?”</p><p>James sighs and shakes his head.</p><p>“<b>I</b> was only able to talk to Mr. Pennyworth who told me he was on an important business trip. Unable to take any calls. I'm sorry.”</p><p>I take a deep breath and look at him, swallowing hard.</p><p>“<b>A</b>re we done?”</p><p>He sighs and his gaze softens.</p><p>“<b>I</b> have your back, Nora. I still do.”</p><p>I get up, signaling the end of the conversation and he reluctantly pushes his chair back.</p><p>“<b>I</b>f you need anything, you can contact me through your lawyer.”</p><p>I nod silently, and he seems to hesitate as his hand remains on the handle for a few seconds but he leaves the room without another word.</p><p>After that, the attorney comes back for a few additional minutes before I get sent back to my cell.</p><p>Four concrete walls.</p><p>Nobody to talk to, nothing to do but ruminate, stuck with the negative thoughts swirling around in my head. The bed is small, hard, and smells like wet laundry left in the washing machine for too long. I lean my head against the wall and bring my knees closer to my chest, slightly rocking.</p><p>It's been one month since I'm on remand, one month since I'm in solitary confinement, not allowed with the rest of the prisoners and it feels like it'll never end. While the decision was initially a relief, I hadn't realized how bad it would turn out. If I lose, I'll be kept there again, for safety reasons. <em> They might as well transfer me directly to Arkham Asylum... </em> </p><p>I rest my hand against the cold wall and let a few tears roll down my cheeks. I don't know how I'm still able to cry, I almost thought I could cry myself dry.</p><p>I wipe my nose with my sleeve and let out a long sigh. <em> And is Bruce's 'business trip' related to Batman's disappearance… or has he simply given up on me? </em> He always said he'd be there if I needed help and God knows I do now.</p><p><em> Maybe the Joker was right</em>.</p><p>I'm not even mad at him anymore. <em> How could I be? </em> I sent him back to Arkham before, I've betrayed him too. I could have left, that's on me. <em> You don't play with fire unless you're ready to get burned, I knew that. </em></p><p>I close my eyes and lie on the bed, pressing my back against the cold wall.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <b>24 hours before trial</b>
</p><p>The guard removes the handcuffs and I drop into the chair with a sigh, rubbing my wrists.</p><p>“<b>H</b>ow is it going this morning?”</p><p>I look at Ronald who's on his phone, his shiny shoes propped on the desk, an eyebrow raised.</p><p>“<b>W</b>hy do you still ask?”</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou know I'm actually allowed to smoke in here?” he ignores the question, plucking a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket.</p><p>“<b>I</b> don't think you are.”</p><p>“<b>I</b> can't see anything stopping me,” he retorts, glancing around the room. “Want one?”</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou know I don't smoke.”</p><p>“<b>W</b>ell, it's never too late to start.” He chuckles, the cigarette bouncing between his lips.</p><p>I stare absently at the lighter he drops on the table.</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou don't have kids, do you?” I hear myself ask.</p><p>“<b>H</b>ell no.” He takes a long drag. “I got two nieces and, don't get me wrong, I love those shitheads but having kids ain't for me. I just about tolerate them.”</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou're that uncle who only visits once a year for Christmas and then disappears until the next year.”</p><p><em> I don't know why I even said that</em>. My mouth is moving but my brain isn't paying attention to what I'm saying. <em> I'm exhausted</em>.</p><p>Ronald laughs and takes another drag before exhaling the smoke.</p><p>“<b>T</b>hat's pretty accurate. Jesus, you already know more about me than my own mother does.”</p><p>I purse my lips and wait for him to finish. I try to relax in the chair but my stomach is already in knots. <em> I'm terrified</em>.</p><p>“<b>I</b> don't want to go,” I let out quietly.</p><p>Ronald crushes the cigarette butt on the side of the table and sighs.</p><p>“<b>L</b>isten, I know you're scared. Everybody is scared before a trial, but I always tell the truth when I let my clients know how I feel.”</p><p>He pauses, waiting for me to look at him and his expression is unusually serious.</p><p>“<b>I</b> have a good feeling about this, Nora. I'll show them that <em> you </em> are the victim. We have a strong case. But—”</p><p>I nod and raise an eyebrow expectantly while he points at my face.</p><p>“<b>I</b> need you to be yourself tomorrow. If you feel emotional, don't hide it,” he insists while slowly nodding. “Don't give me that blank face you have ninety percent of the time, it won't help you tomorrow, so just drop it, okay? For a few days, can you do that?”</p><p>I start biting the inside of my cheek nervously before nodding. <em> He's right</em>.</p><p>“<b>F</b>antastic.” He shoves his hand in his briefcase and pulls out a small alcohol flask. He takes a sip and hands it over to me. “Now, let's go over some of the—let's say—uncomfortable questions they'll ask.”</p><p>I was about to decline but I grimace and take a sip instead.</p><p>“<b>S</b>o.” He clears his throat loudly and puts his glasses on. “What was the nature of your relationship with Mr. William Stone?”</p><p>“<b>H</b>e was working for the Joker, nothing more.”</p><p>“<b>A</b>fter Mr. Stone visited you at your house, and presumably threatened you, why did you come back to Gotham?”</p><p>“<b>H</b>e made it clear that the Joker would find me if I tried to hide.”</p><p>“<b>S</b>o why not go somewhere else, where you had no obvious connections?”</p><p>“<b>M</b>y aunt was terminally ill, I couldn't just disappear.”</p><p>Ronald nods and continues.</p><p>“<b>A</b>nd after she died? Same question.”</p><p>I keep my mouth open for a few seconds before closing it. <em> Why did I stay after she died? </em></p><p>“<b>I</b> was… devastated. The Joker was blackmailing me, I didn't even have time to grieve.”</p><p>“<b>B</b>ut you went to the funeral by yourself. Why not make a run for it then?”</p><p>“<b>I</b> couldn't… There was too much pressure on me. The Joker had threatened my friends too. There wasn't any choice for me. I couldn't lose anybody else.”</p><p>“<b>G</b>ood answer. Don't mention any names unless asked. Were you romantically involved with Mr. Stone?”</p><p>“<b>N</b>o.”</p><p>“<b>W</b>hat about the Joker?”</p><p>I blink nervously but try to keep a straight face.</p><p>“<b>N</b>o.”</p><p>“<b>H</b>ave you had any type of sexual intercourse with any of them?”</p><p>I look at Ronald in silence. He takes off his glasses and sits back.</p><p>“<b>T</b>he Clown?”</p><p>I nod again.</p><p>“<b>C</b>onsensual?”</p><p>“<b>U</b>h-huh.”</p><p>“<b>O</b>K.” He puts his glasses back on. “Obviously, I don't want that information to come out of your mouth in court and because that question wouldn't be directly relevant in the case, we could dismiss it. Any chance you were recorded?”</p><p>“<b>N</b>o. I don't think so.”</p><p><em> What if he was recording? </em>I immediately push the crazy thought out of my head.</p><p>“<b>N</b>one of this will happen anyway,” he adds rapidly. “But, in the unlikely event that there <em> is </em> evidence, I can't have you lying and committing perjury when we can just call it sexual assault.”</p><p><em> But that's a lie too. It wasn't rape..</em>. I shift uncomfortably in my chair and shake my head.</p><p>“<b>I</b> can't pretend to have—”</p><p>“<b>Y</b>es, you can,” he interrupts me. “And you will if it comes to that.”</p><p>I nod but my stomach is so tight I start to feel nauseous. I don't want to think about the trial, I don't want to imagine sitting in front of all these strangers who are going to judge me and decide if I belong in a cage or not.<em> I wish I could just disappear... </em></p><p>I flinch when a loud beep echoes around the room and Ronald sighs, pulling out his phone nonchalantly. His mouth opens slightly and he glances over his shoulder.</p><p>“<b>D</b>o you have any questions, Nora?”</p><p>I take a silent breath and stare at a faint scratch on the table.</p><p>“<b>D</b>o you really think we'll win?” I finally ask.</p><p>He nods absently, still glancing down at his phone.</p><p>“<b>I</b>'m confident. Listen, when the trial is over and you're found not guilty, you're gonna get out of here, pick up your things and then you're gonna buy me a box of chocolates on your way home. I'm telling you.”</p><p>I want to believe that, I really do but I just can't see it. I can't see anything good ever happening to me again.</p><p>He places the flask in front of me and starts rummaging through his briefcase.</p><p>“<b>H</b>elp yourself.”</p><p>“<b>I</b>'m okay.”</p><p>I watch him pull out a pile of files until he lets out a relieved sigh and retrieves a pair of tangled headphones.</p><p>“<b>I</b> just need to show you one last thing and we're done for today.”</p><p>*</p><p>
  <b>First day of trial</b>
</p><p>I've already been sitting on the bed for an hour, staring blankly at the wall when I hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. <em> I know they are for me</em>.</p><p>My throat tightens and I'm not sure that I can stand up at this point. I've been sick all night and I've barely slept, feeling like my anxiety is slowly gnawing at me.</p><p>“<b>N</b>ora Wilde.”</p><p>I swallow hard, take a deep breath, and get to my feet. After placing my hands through the opening in the door, allowing the guard to handcuff me, he proceeds to unlock the cell door. <em> This is it. </em></p><p>I follow the guard through the cold corridors until we're outside. A van is parked by the entrance and I board the vehicle in a daze. To my surprise, the van contains four individual cells and I sit on the hard seat with a shaky sigh. The doors close and I wait for what feels like ages. </p><p>For the next few minutes, I hear more footsteps, the loud voice of an officer, chains rattling on the floor before the main doors finally slam shut, followed by the loud roaring of the engine.</p><p>The traffic seems to be light as the large van drives through the streets of Gotham and, even though there are no windows, I know we're not far.</p><p>When the vehicle comes to a stop, I'm almost about to pass out. They let the other prisoners out first and I come out last, feeling like I'm walking on cotton wool.</p><p><em> Gotham City Courthouse</em>.</p><p>I've walked in front of the building many times before but I never thought I'd set foot there. The officer yanks me forward when he realizes that I'm glued to the spot.</p><p><em> It's gonna be fine. I know what to expect, it's gonna be fine. </em> I keep repeating the words in my head, over and over, as we enter the old building. </p><p>The place isn't particularly hot but I already feel the drops of sweat on my forehead and each breath I take is short and shallow. The officer locks me into one of the holding cells and I start pacing nervously. <em> Do they really think that I'm a threat? </em></p><p>
  <em> Keep it together…</em>
</p><p>I have to focus because if I lose it now, I won't be able to say a word in there and that's not an option. I sit back down, biting my nails anxiously, one leg shaking.</p><p>When the cell door finally opens, my heart is in my mouth.</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou're up next.”</p><p>I barely nod and follow the officer out toward the courtroom.</p><p>I expected it to be intimidating, of course, but it's nothing like I imagined. Some people are already sitting on the chairs but, thankfully, I don't have to look at them as I head straight to Ronald who's already sitting at the table. <em> I didn't think I'd ever be this relieved to see him. </em></p><p>“<b>H</b>ow are you feeling?” he asks.</p><p>“<b>R</b>otten. I stupidly thought I would never be here today.”</p><p>“<b>I</b> know. Deep breaths, you'll be fine,” he adds, adjusting his tie confidently.</p><p>I sigh and stare at the empty judge's seat while Ronald places his documents neatly on the table. There are a lot of voices echoing behind me as the courtroom starts to fill, but I can't bring myself to look over my shoulder.</p><p>“<b>D</b>o I have to keep them?” I whisper, glancing down at the handcuffs.</p><p>Ronald nods absently with a vague hand gesture. “<b>I</b>'m afraid so, but don't worry about them.”</p><p>I swallow hard and take a deep breath. I wish I could have better control over my thoughts but my mind is racing and I can barely remember my name.</p><p>“<b>A</b>ll rise!”</p><p>I'm startled by the sudden loud voice and I immediately get up as the judge enters the courtroom. <em> It's a man, and he doesn't look friendly at all. </em></p><p>As the trial starts, I feel completely lost and I'm struggling to accept that this is truly happening. The minutes turn into hours and I keep my gaze fixed on the table most of the time.</p><p>Even though I haven't had to speak much so far, the whole process is painful nonetheless as I'm forced to relive everything in detail.</p><p>I look up at the screen and there I am, holding up a shotgun, the only one not wearing a clown mask, of course, and I shake my head in dismay. <em> This looks bad</em>.</p><p>They call the first witness and I realize that it's the man the Joker shot on his doorstep. <em> At least he survived. </em></p><p>Soon, it's Ronald's turn to stand up, and he quickly fastens the button of his suit.</p><p>“<b>M</b>r. Hannigan, have you witnessed my client doing anything significant that night, other than what we've all seen here?”</p><p>“<b>N</b>o.”</p><p>“<b>D</b>id she address you during these… fifty-five seconds?” he adds, reading the time on the screen.</p><p>“<b>N</b>o.”</p><p>“<b>W</b>hat was your first impression when you saw her?”</p><p>Mr. Hannigan gives me a furtive glance before clearing his throat.</p><p>“<b>I</b> noticed her because she was the only one not wearing a mask and she seemed… out of place.”</p><p>“<b>C</b>an you elaborate?”</p><p>“<b>S</b>he seemed scared and I noticed she wasn't holding the weapon properly,” he adds, pointing at the screen.</p><p>“<b>I</b>t was therefore obvious to you that she was there against her will?”</p><p>
  <em>"<strong>O</strong>bjection, leading.” </em>
</p><p>“<b>S</b>ustained,” the judge approves. “Mr. Bloomberg.”</p><p>“<b>I</b>n your opinion, is it possible that my client was being blackmailed?” Ronald rephrases the question.</p><p>“<b>Y</b>es.”</p><p>“<b>T</b>hank you, Mr. Hannigan. Now, Miss Wilde.” Ronald turns toward me. “Please explain to the jury why and when the shotgun ended up in your hands.”</p><p>I clear my throat and my mouth turns instantly dry.</p><p>“<b>T</b>he Joker handed it to me right before we stepped out of the house. I'm not sure why.”</p><p>“<b>I</b>'m sure we can all think of a reason,” he continues, turning around again. “He gave her the gun just before going out and took it back a few seconds later. The only reason was that he wanted her to step out in public, looking guilty.” He pauses and turns to the jury with a sigh. “Miss Wilde didn't kill anybody, she didn't want to witness a murder either, she was just a pawn, a victim of his sick games. Everyone in Gotham knows how dangerous he is, the idea that my client could somehow stop him or challenge him is absurd—”</p><p>The trial continues and it doesn't get easier. To calm my nerves, I keep taking sips of water but the feeling of liquid on my empty stomach is starting to make me nauseous.</p><p>“—<strong>E</strong>ven though Miss Wilde isn't from Gotham, it wasn't too hard to discover a few interesting facts about her—”</p><p><em> Here we go. </em> I take a silent breath as they mention my family but I quickly furrow my brows and I feel Ronald stiffening in his seat.</p><p>“<b>S</b>omething rather disturbing emerged from one of the tapes we received, and the statement from the officers who first arrived at the scene—” the woman continues, picking up one of her files.</p><p>“<b>W</b>hat is this?” I whisper. “What <em> tape </em>?”</p><p>“<b>I</b> don't know… Your Honor.” Ronald gets up immediately. “We weren't made aware of any of this. The prosecution evidently failed to disclose the documents with us.”</p><p>“<b>W</b>e only received them last night, your Honor.”</p><p>The judge beckons to them and I stare anxiously, wishing I could hear the silent words they exchange. A few seconds later, Ronald walks back to his chair with a blank face and he simply mutters to me 'stay calm' before the woman continues.</p><p>“<b>T</b>he crash happened on a highway, near the exit, killing the parents and a child, the defendant's sister. Miss Wilde was the only survivor, with a broken wrist, I believe, she was conscious when the police arrived and had managed to crawl out of the vehicle. After the tragedy, the defendant reportedly stopped talking for months, is that correct?”</p><p>My heart is beating out of my chest and I only manage to nod.</p><p>“<b>A</b>nswer out loud, please,” the judge reminds me.</p><p>“<b>Y</b>es.”</p><p>“<b>B</b>ut before that,” the woman continues. “Miss Wilde did talk to the police. She said, I quote, <em> ‘I killed them, I did it’ </em> and proceeded to repeat this four times—”</p><p>My eyes widen in shock and Ronald springs up from his seat.</p><p>“<b>O</b>bjection, your Honor! What does this have to do with the case?!”</p><p>“<b>P</b>lease, go to the point, Mrs. Casey,” the judge urges her.</p><p>“<b>A</b>fter watching traffic camera footage from the accident, the police called the defendant back to the station for a statement. However, her aunt, who was at the time her legal guardian and a close friend of the police chief's, stepped in and refused any questions. Because of the defendant's young age and the circumstances of the accident, an investigation was never officially opened. See for yourself.”</p><p>My eyes are still wide open and I don't think I've moved a muscle for the last few minutes.</p><p>The video quality is poor and the whole thing, even played in slow motion, only lasts a few seconds, but time seems to suddenly stop for me.</p><p><em> This can't be real</em>.</p><p>I see the car, <em> our </em> car. My father is in the driver's seat, and, out of nowhere, I see myself lunging over the backseat to grab the wheel. My mother's hand—I presume—is seen trying to push me back, the car swerves and goes out of the frame... but I know what happens next.</p><p>My throat feels like it's closing up and I can barely breathe. <em>Why did I grab the wheel?!</em> <em>I don't remember that</em>. The tears sting my eyes and I feel Ronald's gaze on me as he squeezes my forearm.</p><p>“<b>S</b>ome children who have been exposed to trauma from a young age become addicted to it. And when the stress is relieved, they suffer.” She points at the screen. “So they have to create a stressful experience to cope. The same way she's been unable to stay away from Gotham or the Joker even after what happened because a part of her <em> enjoyed </em> it. Now, Miss Wilde, can you convince the jury that you weren't the one who caused the crash that killed your entire family?”</p><p>“<b>O</b>bjection, your Honor!” Ronald barks, jumping up from his seat again. “Argumentative, speculation. This is outrageous. First of all, when Mrs. Casey becomes a qualified psychiatrist and can back up the horseshit she—”</p><p>“<b>L</b>anguage, Mr. Bloomberg,” the judge warns him.</p><p>“<b>A</b>pologies, your Honor. When Mrs. Casey obtains some real scientific evidence to support her <em> claims </em> she should bring it here until then, my eight-year-old niece is as qualified as she is. Secondly, the video lasts a few seconds, the actual crash happened off-camera. There could have been a dozen reasons as to why my client did what she did. An investigation was never opened because there wasn't any evidence, to begin with! The whole argument is based on what a kid, understandably in shock, told the police just after witnessing her whole family dying. This is beyond irrelevant.”</p><p>“<b>S</b>ustained. I'll allow one question about this matter before we move on, Mrs. Casey.”</p><p>I open my mouth and give a desperate look to Ronald who sits down reluctantly.</p><p>The woman stands next to the jury box and she turns her piercing gaze to me.</p><p>“<b>R</b>emember, you're under oath, Miss Wilde. With that in mind, can you assure all of us, without a shadow of a doubt, that you didn't cause the accident?”</p><p>My lips start quivering and I look around me in panic. <em> Is this really happening? </em> Ronald whispers something and I just manage to choke the answer out.</p><p>“<b>N</b>o.”</p><p>I hear a few whispers behind me and the woman barely suppresses a triumphant smile.</p><p>“<b>N</b>o further questions.”</p><p><em> I need to get out. </em> The tears run down my neck now and I can only see the blurred table as I keep my gaze down. I don't remember it, I don't remember any of this. I loved my parents, I loved my sister. I would never have done anything to put them in danger.</p><p>“<b><em>P</em></b><em>lease</em>,” I whisper to Ron.</p><p>He quickly senses my distress and stands back up. </p><p>“<b>Y</b>our Honor, I'm requesting a recess. My client can't possibly continue after being forced to witness and relive this traumatic event—”</p><p>I hold the tears as best I can but my shoulders are already shaking, my whole body is shaking and I don't even care about the trial anymore. <em> Did Rose know something and tried to protect me?  </em></p><p>The judge's voice resonates in the courtroom followed by the sound of the gavel but I haven't processed anything that's been said.</p><p>“<b>G</b>et up.” Ronald's hand is on my back and I slowly stand up.</p><p>The officer escorts me out of the courtroom and I sniffle loudly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. The man pushes me into the same holding cell before slamming the door shut and I drop into the seat with a shaky breath.</p><p>
  <em> What was that? </em>
</p><p>I want to say that there's a logical explanation for what I've just witnessed. I wish I could explain and remember, but I can't. Nothing makes sense to me.</p><p><em> “</em><em><strong>Y</strong>ou're</em> <em>not allowed here, sir.” </em></p><p>“<b>I</b> just need two minutes with her.”</p><p>I stare down at the dirty floor as the cell door opens<em>. </em> Ronald casually enters, a newspaper tucked under his arm.</p><p>“<b>W</b>ho knew you could bribe people in a courthouse?”</p><p>I don't react, still staring at the floor.</p><p>“<b>O</b>kay, so we both didn't see that one coming,” he continues, sitting heavily. “But this was just a desperate move. Nothing more.”</p><p>“<b>Y</b>ou don't know that,” I say quietly. “I don't know that.”</p><p>“<b>D</b>on't let it get to you, Nora.”</p><p>“<b>H</b>ow much longer?” I quickly change the subject.</p><p>“<b>W</b>e're done for the day.”</p><p>I let out a sigh of relief and the officer re-enters the cell gesturing for me to get up.</p><p>“<b>C</b>ome on. Time to go.”</p><p>Ronald picks up his briefcase and squeezes my shoulder.</p><p>“<b>I</b>'ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest.”</p><p>_____________________</p><p>As I climb onto the vehicle, my mind is racing and I can't stay still.</p><p>
  <em> I wasn't prepared for this to happen. </em>
</p><p>I feel the vibrations through the seat as the engine starts and the doors slam shut. <em> Back in a cell, alone</em>. I was sweating but now I'm shivering.</p><p>I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to remember everything that's been said, trying to steer my focus toward something else. But only one thought is stuck in my head now, a seed slowly growing, ready to invade my mind like a weed<em>.</em> <em>Maybe I've been living a lie all these years.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Until next time! Stay safe &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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